Once you are off the plane, through customs, have your luggage in hand, and are through the Nadi airport (which is a VERY interesting place), your next challenge awaits. "Transport", as they call it in Fiji-land, is a very different thing than it is in America.
First, you will be riding in something decidedly smaller, most likely with front wheel drive and a manual straight-stick transmission, and with the look of something both inside and out that has been through a war. Toyota, Nissan, Kia, and just about any other Asian made car will dominate the choices when using a taxi, rental car, or cab. We saw only one or two American made vehicles the whole time we were there.
Second, they drive on the wrong side of the road in Fiji. So, the steering wheel and driver's seat is on the right versus the left side of the vehicle. With Fiji having been a British colony until the 1960's, this is not surprising. Also not surprising is the presence of round-abouts. We saw very few traffic signals, and none of those were operational. The country was just recovering from massive flooding brought about by typhoons that pounded their nation in January, March and April of this year. So, the few traffic lights and street lamps that did exist were not working.
This brought yet another aspect of "fun" to the "transport" experience. Specifically, negotiating roads that the devil himself would not attempt.
The roads in Fiji are beyond incredibly bad. The substandard tar-seal they use is rough, and is applied with little care for creating a smooth driving surface. With the aforementioned flooding in the country just prior to our arrival, the top level of tar seal had been stripped away, and the under surface was riddled with G-I-A-N-T potholes. The biggest potholes any driver will ever experience anywhere.
And they are everywhere!
Dodging these monstrous craters becomes a daily challenge, much like avoiding the dreaded IED's of the wars our troops have endured in the Middle East. Our rental van's suspension took one royal beating after another as we racked up hundreds of miles (or kilometers) over the three weeks we drove those roads.
Most of the roads are two lane. There was only one stretch of the "Queen's Highway," which is the main thoroughfare that rings the large island of Viti Levu, which was a truly divided highway with passing lanes on each side. The two lanes are more narrow than US highways, mainly because the cars are all the smaller, compact, Asian variety. The word, "Pig Trail," comes to mind as a way of describing the width and appearance of the majority of Fijian streets, roads, and highways.
Fourth, public transport is preeminent. Most Fijians are not financially able to own a car. That privilege is largely controlled by the Indian population of the country. So, most of the natives get from Point A to Point B on large open-air buses, in smaller rented vans, and in taxis. Public transport is both cheap and somewhat plentiful. A 60 kilometer round-trip lease of an eight passenger van and driver costs about $30 USD. We paid for this service repeatedly during the three week stay, in order to bring church members from other towns to a centrally-located campus for classes, meetings, and worship services.
With tourism being one of the foremost industries in the country, taxis are everywhere. Most of the drivers are Indian, and they are fearless. I am convinced that they would make excellent NASCAR drivers. Passing on blind curves, changing lanes and turning with no advanced warning, and driving with the most blinding, piercing, little bright headlights in the "on" position are standard driving practice with these hired road warriors. They don't talk much, and you, as a passenger, are glad. I learned that it is a very difficult thing to hold a meaningful conversation when you are gripped by sheer terror. A taxi ride in Fiji can be FAR more hair-raising than any thrill ride at Six Flags or Disney World.
Fifth, Fijian authorities are beginning to try and control the recklessness their drivers are famous for. Speed limits are posted in HUGE black numbers on round, white signs that are ringed with a blood-red stripe. They are unmistakable. You can see them from almost a mile away. Too, the Fijian police have discovered radar guns. They hide by the roadside and clock your speed. There is no five-mile-per-hour grace window with these officers. They will cite you for even one mile over the limit, and will also fine everyone in the car if only one passenger's seat belt is unbuckled. The fine for not being buckled is $80 FJD per passenger. This practice came about largely because of the Fijian penchant from cramming people into vehicles in numbers far outstretching the vehicle's stated passenger capacity. I have personally ridden with as many as ten or twelve Fijians packed in a seven passenger vehicle.
What fun!
Livin' on Fiji time is a driver's nightmare. Take plenty of courage with you as you brave the Fijian road.
It's not your father's transport.
No comments:
Post a Comment